Opera Ghost
07-27-2005, 03:19 PM
I've written quite a lot of poems in the last few years. I am never content with how they work out, but my friends say I'm good. I have loads more but have currently mislaid them... will keep looking though. The following is Lord of the Rings themed, set in the mind of Queen Arwen after Aragorn has died. I wrote it in April 04.
Le melethim
Home is far behind you, so many moons away
Your parents left you long ago towards the sparkling bay
Your husband is no more and your youngest son is sleeping
No one is there to calm you as you sit there weeping
Tears fall for your husband and for your eldest son
Lingering on deaths threshold beneath the darkened sun
You watch the falg of your people flying in the sky
A speck against the mountains that tower above so high
Dawn comes slowly to you as you sit in your room
The Sun rises slowly, but the flowers are in bloom
You stand at your window looking out to sea
You do not know what your future will be
Two moons later you life is untouched by the cold
Your son no longer lies ar deaths threshold
All over the city silver trumpets are heard crying
To celebrate that the Queens son is no longer dying
You turn to your eldest son and you smile and say to him
Le melethim, my darling child, le melethim.
* - I cannot remember the translation. It's Elvish, and I think it means "I love you" but I'd have to look it up.
OG
Le melethim
Home is far behind you, so many moons away
Your parents left you long ago towards the sparkling bay
Your husband is no more and your youngest son is sleeping
No one is there to calm you as you sit there weeping
Tears fall for your husband and for your eldest son
Lingering on deaths threshold beneath the darkened sun
You watch the falg of your people flying in the sky
A speck against the mountains that tower above so high
Dawn comes slowly to you as you sit in your room
The Sun rises slowly, but the flowers are in bloom
You stand at your window looking out to sea
You do not know what your future will be
Two moons later you life is untouched by the cold
Your son no longer lies ar deaths threshold
All over the city silver trumpets are heard crying
To celebrate that the Queens son is no longer dying
You turn to your eldest son and you smile and say to him
Le melethim, my darling child, le melethim.
* - I cannot remember the translation. It's Elvish, and I think it means "I love you" but I'd have to look it up.
OG